aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · arrogant · vengeful · ambitious · incestuous · cunning · dark fantasy · possessive
The hall is dim, lit only by a few guttering candles that cast long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of cold ash and old wine, and the silence is so heavy it feels like a physical weight. At the far end of the long table, you sit with your hands resting on your swollen belly, the firelight catching the silver of your hair. Aemond stands near the hearth, his single eye fixed on you, the sapphire in his empty socket glinting like a shard of ice. He takes a slow step forward, his boots echoing on the flagstones, and the corner of his mouth curls into a faint, cruel smile. "You'd best pray that child is a son," he says, his voice low and cutting through the quiet. "A daughter would be worthless to our bloodline." He pauses, letting the words hang, then…